


London, Hopefully

by orphan_account



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Compliant, episode 187, it's just like the next minute after the end of the episode, season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 22:27:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29973225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Out of the garden and into the flower. That's how the expression goes, right?
Relationships: Zolf Smith & Oscar Wilde
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26





	London, Hopefully

**Author's Note:**

> I just had lots of thoughts I wanted to think about this ending so decided to put them down! I'll probably take this down by next episode but you know!

It’s when Cel asks about the space-time portal, and when Azu instantly agrees with them that Wilde takes a moment to look away from his illusion casting and glance around his party. They all look awful, and he knows he won’t be looking much better himself. Skraak takes a hit, and then he takes another, the tree branches swooping in and knocking him about like he’s nothing more than a toy for a dog. Wilde winces on his behalf, but right now he knows there’s nothing more he can do than keep his illusion strong. They’re on his other side, so Wilde doesn't see it, but he hears the trees get a hit in on Sumutnyerl too. 

Hamid starts to fall back in the direction of the plants, not yet picking one specifically. Wilde follows suit, still maintaining focus on his illusion as he moves. He’s vaguely aware of the rest of his party retreating, Cel and Zolf deciding which plant to take, but he’s not paying them too much mind as he gathers the rope up in his arms, trusting it to lead him back to where Zolf’s running. 

“Shoin drew London,” Zolf yells out. Azu joins them, channeling positive energy as she moves. She's exhausted and battered, so it’s not much, but it’s better than nothing and Wilde desperately needs it. He sees Skraak perk up a bit, too, from his ragged bruises and the cuts across his face as he turns from the trees and runs towards Zolf and the tolling bulb. 

They move as one, the group plowing towards it as fast as they can. The trees are slower than them, so Wilde drops his illusion and turns around so he can run faster. The rope between him and Zolf drags on the ground, and while it’s not quite his priority, he doesn’t want it to get caught on anything, so he still picks it up as quickly as he can as he flees. Skraak, the fast little kobold that he is, overtakes Wilde and catches up with Zolf as he approaches the bulb. 

“Another thing,” Zolf calls out in warning before he jumps inside. “Close your eyes when you go in!” 

“Everyone hold on to each other really tight, please,” Hamid begs from directly behind Wilde. The opening between the petals is narrow, so they fall into single file. Zolf takes the lead, Skraak clutching onto the rope with desperation. He scrunches his eyes and lifts his feet off the ground. Between the two of them, Wilde and Zolf carry him. As Zolf leaps through the petals the plant starts to glow a brilliant blue, the blue of the seed, the blue of the veins, and Wilde forces back his gut reaction to avoid it at all costs. Instead, he reaches back and blindly grabs onto Cel’s forearm. They grip him tight, and Wilde closes his eyes and jumps. 

  
  


The world goes wrong. He can feel it pressing in around him, every atom that has ever existed flowing through his body. It chokes up him, and he wants to open his eyes but Zolf told him not to so he doesn’t. He can feel Cel’s hand on his arm, focuses on the pressure, tightening his hand on their arm in return. It’s possibly tight enough for him to bruise them, but he knows they won’t mind. A hell of a lot better than the alternative. 

He brings his left hand to his waist, ready to grip onto his rope- 

And he falls to the ground in a heap, his legs buckling underneath him. 

“Gods,” Zolf groans, from somewhere not too far away. Wilde opens his eyes. 

They’re all there, they’ve all made it. He’s not too sure where exactly “there” is, but they’re all together on solid ground, and none of them look too bad. Without really even standing up, Wilde shuffles over to be next to Zolf, checking him briefly for any major injuries. He swats Wilde’s hands away and looks around them all.

“Hamid,” Azu says desperately, scooping him up in her arms. 

“I’m okay, Azu,” Hamid says weakly. He’s a mess, with his hair still spiked up from the lightning and the right sleeve of his shirt torn at the seam. He looks to Skraak, and then around at the group, and some of the tension drains from his body. 

“Alright, then,” Zolf says. He channels positive energy, and Wilde soaks it in, running his fingers through his hair and casting prestidigitation. It seems a bit pointless, but Zolf scoffs and rolls his eyes at him, so it isn’t. He winks back. 

“Sohra,” Sumutnyerl gasps, changing back from a polar bear into a human. “We’ve left them outside the garden.” 

Wilde’s heart drops and he feels Zolf stiffen beside him. 

“There’s nothing we can do about her right now,” Zolf says, pragmatic as ever. “We don’t even know where we are, let alone how to get back to her.” 

She slumps against Azu’s shoulder in defeat and Zolf averts his eyes, saying nothing but channeling more positive energy. Wilde thinks of where it comes from, letting Zolf’s sense of hope flow through him. 

“You alright, Skraak?” He asks. He’s looking better than he did in the garden, his scales brightening up a bit and his wounds healing over. “You did a good job back there.” 

Skraak gives a brief nod, the corner of his lip turning up. At a glance it seems like a hostile gesture, but Wilde knows him well enough now to recognise that as appreciation. 

“I liked your,” he says, then mimes Wilde’s illusion with his hands. “Poof.” 

“Yeah,” Wilde says. “Thanks.” 

“Where are we?” Cel asks, turning to Zolf and Wilde. “Is it where you thought we’d be?” 

"I’m not sure,” Zolf says, pulling himself to his feet and dusting himself off. “Let’s find out.” 

**Author's Note:**

> knifemartin on tumblr lol


End file.
